


BlackBird

by DepressedBeanTM



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angel Wings, F/M, Fallen Angel, Fallen Angel Marvel, Gen, Hydra (Marvel), Major Original Character(s), POV First Person, SHIELD, angel - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:35:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26793742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DepressedBeanTM/pseuds/DepressedBeanTM
Summary: 『Black bird singing in the dead of nighttake these broken wings and learn to flyall your lifeyou were only waiting for this moment to arise』[MCU - With an Oc][Thor, Avengers, Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Avengers: Age of Ultron]I do not own Marvel (obv), but I own my OC.





	1. Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Layla undergoes through a lot of hardships in life, and this one prologue shows a little of her backstory. Though this is not all, as the rest will slowly uncover throughout the story, this one is a highlight that shows how she somewhat 'receive' these powers- ahem, this power.

  
**_Blackbird singing in the dead of night,_ **  
  


Layla laid on the white marble flooring, unmoving but not dead. Well, about to. Splotches of green mixed with red sprayed the floor as if an artist were painting abstract art. Hands burned with bruises _adorning_ her barely clothed body. Hair matted and uncleaned, the bottom of her feet a shade of black and red, nose and cheeks a tin of an unhealthy red with her eye a tinge of purple and blue. Her throat was sore and dehydrated after a screaming session, but it was as if she was all alone, no one to help her. Oh, no, there was a group of people, but they seemed unfazed at this, standing protected behind bulletproof, one-way glass, scribbling down notes and observations from what they saw.

" _Subject number 12; incomplete,_ " the booming speaker echoed the huge room, startling Layla to a sudden wake after resting her eyes for a minute. The iron locked doors were pushed open, revealing two guards marching their way towards the brunette. She did little to move, knowing that they would just lift her from her underarms and dragged her to her room. They did exactly that. Her small, young, fragile body wasn't hard to carry and drag around, due to the lack of food and energy.

Layla let her head droop down, her hair screening her eyes from the scientist, already knowing that their eyes held disappointment and rage, the latter more so than the former. But they came to an abrupt stop. She lifted her head to see what had happened to only widened her eyes, head snapped to the side with a growing pain that erupted on her cheek. One of the older scientists could slap _hard_.

"You are a disgrace," his voice heavily laced with irritation. He turned his head to the other scientist, talking to them as if she didn't even exist. "Why do we even keep her here?!"

The other scientist raised his hand, telling him to shut up without saying anything, "It's because she's _his daughter_."  
  


**_Take these broken wings and learn to fly,_ **  
  


"Please, please," Layla begged, "Please, no more!"

But the scientists didn't stop; continuing whatever they were preparing to do to the poor girl. Said girl was strapped to a metal chair, wires upon wires that were seemingly endless, plugged in and around her body like some sort of freak-show, an entertainment meant for those black-hearted, monstrous beings that continued to toy around a living being like it was fun.

Her lips trembled when they ignored her pleas, so instead, she just sucked in her breaths, trying to calm the turbo beats of her thumping heart. But she couldn't calm the tears that threatened to spill in the corners of her eyes; reddening when they were in for too long.

"Three."

Her eyes widened when she heard the number, knowing all too well what will happen when it hits zero. So, she thrashed on her chair, viciously tugging against the restraints as it continued to burn and bruise her skin.

"Two."

She tried to brace herself, really, she tried, but the anxiety wouldn't let her calm. It was like she has PTSD from all of this -- might as well. She threw her head back, curling her hands and toes to try -- try to brace for the tremendous wave of pain that would hit her full on like a tsunami.

"One."

She clenched her eyes shut, brows scrunching and teeth grinding. Her mind in haywire; her body turning stiff like a stone.

" _Zero_."  
  


**_All your life,_ **  
  


" _Day two thousand, nine hundred and twenty: experiment thirty-six, underway,_ " the intercom voiced, prompting Layla to try the new serum they had added to her serum-filled body; the things' even more than her own blood, she thought. She breathed out, clearing the worrying thoughts that filled her the corners of her brain.

She thrust her arms out in front of her, the palms of her hands facing the wall as she was instructed to. She concentrated and concentrated and concentrated, but to her avail, nothing happened. This wasn't unorthodox, hell, you could even tell by the number of times they had injected that stuff in her body; more times than her petite hands could even count.

She could hear and image the sighs of the scientists in her mind, causing her to start trembling. Her hands and knees were shaking, almost to the point where her legs might just give out. She could heed the calls of the scientists for the guards, which caught her attention. Normally, she couldn't hear a single thing outside this room, as it was protected by a layer of sound-proof walls, how? She never knew. But she came to a realization one day when they were quiet for a couple of minutes, like ten minutes, and then she knew it.

Just as the door slammed open and the guards began advancing toward her, she pulled her hands up, palms out in front of her, shouting out, "W-wait!"

The guards stopped, it was the first time she spoke up to them, except for the time she had just come here. "What?" the guard on the left demanded, his voice low and gruff to her ears.

Her lips trembled a little, it didn't help since she was only eleven at the time. "I-I have an advanced hearing..." she breathed out, her voice quiet and shaky. "I could hear the scientists call for you."

She could see the two guards lift up one eyebrow in question, then looked at each other and then went back, informing the scientists about the new discovery. She could make out every single word that spilt from their mouths as if she was right next to them. The old scientist walked up to her, his hands clasped behind his back, sauntering his way and towering over the girl. An evil smile on his face, betraying all innocence that had appeared in his wrinkly eyes. "If you dare lie to me and the others, I would, most certainly--" the smile dropped as did his head, mouth right next to Layla's ear canal. "--force you to stay at room 16, My pleasure."

Layla nodded her head, staggering a little at the force. She swallowed some thick saliva that wouldn't go down. Henceforth, Layla had been trying different methods to kick start her previous serums, and also, getting new ones.  
  


**_You were only waiting for this moment to arise._ **  
  


Layla trembled to the ground, an unbelievable amount of pain erupted in her whole body. She had tried to use the new serum the scientist has given her, but instead of getting a tingly feeling, it felt as if one thousand knives pierced throughout her body, the tip of the blade showing through. Her lips trembled as she tried to contain her screaming, but it was unbearable, it hurt too much, too much to the point that she thinks that she really was being stabbed by that many knives.

Her screaming filled the room, tears and sweat pouring down her face as if it were a waterfall, falling down the edge; her face. She clutched her head, knees digging into the marble floor, hair about to be ripped. The scientists from the other side didn't know what to do, they couldn't lose their best test subject, since all the other ones died along the way; she was the only one who went the furthest.

Drool slipped from her mouth, something clogging her throat caused her to cough vigorously, shaking even more when it was starting to feel like she couldn't breathe. She coughed more, something majestic came out... a bundle of black, bloody feathers.

She breathed out, the pain slowly subsiding. But just when the pain was gone, another one slammed her body to the floor, a sharp, agonizing pain spread from the top of her back to the middle. It felt like her tissues, muscles, and skin was being ripped open, the insides forced out and onto the white ground, leaving it in a bundle of blue, black, and red stuff.

A scream ripped from her throat, making it throb with the continuous cries. Tears pooled out from the corners of her eyes, mixing in with the salty sweat.

She felt like dying, which she probably is.  
  
  
  
  
  


> ❝ ** _ΛПD_** ** _ƧӨ_** ** _,_** ** _Ƭ_** ** _ΉΣ PЯ_** ** _Ө_** ** _PΉΣ_** **ᄃ** ** _Y BΣGIП_** ** _Ƨ_** ** _._** ❞  
>    
>    
> 

* * *

  
  
**Ｌａｙｌａ**   
**"Not a Birb"**  
_Portrayed by Michelle Rodriguez_

[ _I won't hesitate, bitch._ ]  
  
  


**Ｓｔｅｖｅ** **Ｒｏｇｅｒｓ**  
**"Capitan American"**  
_Portrayed by Chris Evans_

_[For the fifth time this week, language._ ]  
  
  
  


**Ｔｏｎｙ** **Ｓｔａｒｋ**  
**"Tin-can"**  
_Portrayed by Robert Downey, Jr._

[ _So, like... can you speak bird? Caw, caw._ ]  
  
  


**Ｂｕｃｋｙ** **Ｂａｒｎｅｓ**  
**"Зимний солдат"**  
_Portrayed by Sebastian Stan_

[ _Итак, мы снова встречаемся, мой Зимний ангел ..._ ]  
  
  


**Ｃｌｉｎｔ** **Ｂａｒｔｏｎ**  
**"Clit"**  
_Portrayed by Jeremy Renner_

[ _I am so done with your shit, Layla._ ]  
  
  


**Ｎａｔａｓｈａ** **Ｒｏｍａｎｏ v**  
**"Cat-girl but, like, hotter"**  
_Portrayed by Scarlett Johansson_

[ _You never cease to amaze me, Angel._ ]  
  
  


**Ｔｈｏｒ** **Ｏｄｉｎｓｏｎ**  
**"Pikachu"**  
_Portrayed by Chris Hemsworth_

[ _Have we met? Because it feels like we have._ ]  
  
  


**Ｂｒｕｃｅ Ｂａｎｎｅｒ**  
**"Sciency guy"**  
_Portrayed by Mark Ruffalo_

[ _Please stop calling me 'Green Science guy'. And no, 'Sciency guy' is not okay too._ ]  
  
  


With...

 _Samuel L. Jackson_ | **"Nickie"** | **Ｎｉｃｋ** **Ｆｕｒｙ**  
_Clark Gregg_ | **"Philly/Son of Coul"** | **Ｐｈｉｌ** **Ｃｏｕｌｓｏｎ**  
_Don Cheadle_ | **"Road"** | **Ｊａｍｅｓ** **Ｒｈｏｄｅｓ**  
_Tom Holland_ | **"Pe** **e** **tie"** | **Ｐｅｔｅｒ** **Ｐａｒｋｅｒ**  
_Tom Hiddleston_ | **"Lowkey"** | **Ｌｏｋｉ** **Ｌａｕｆｅｙｓｏｎ**  
_Paul Bettany_ | **"Android"** | **Ｖｉｓｉｏｎ**  
_Elizabeth Olsen_ | **"I like you, I don't know what to call you."** | **Ｗａｎｄａ** **Ｍａｘｉｍｏｆｆ**  
_Aaron Taylor-Johnson_ | **"Quicksilver, but in the MCU."** | **Ｐｉｅｔｒｏ** **Ｍａｘｉｍｏｆｆ**

And more!


	2. Mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Layla is on a small mission. Upon completing this mission, she is called by her boss. What will happen next?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: There are some explicit things in this chapter! So, if you are not comfortable with this, you can skip this chapter as it is a mild filler!! Death of a minor character, slightly explicit sexual content!

  
  
**_I N T E R C O N T I N E N T Δ L M Δ R S E I L L E — H O T E L D I E U_ **   
**_M Δ R S E I L L E , F R Δ N C E_ **   
  
  


**GΔLΔS ΔRE** nice, especially when the music is nice and classic with good food. Always love some good food. But the thing I hate the most in galas are the snobby, rich, 'too-superior-for-the-poor' people who are usually the only ones invited. Sure, I am 'invited', but only for this particular event.

Clad with a sheath type dress, silk red hugged my body with comfort, the skirt having a slit that travelled to the top of my thighs, just underneath my pantie line. A black boot with high heels made me feel taller than ever, completed with a simple doughnut bun that was decorated with a whole range of different white flowers. It was simple but nice. No weapon is a risk, but a risk I'm willing to take.

A sigh left my lips when the bartender left his station to tend to other celebrities. The drink in my hands clashed against the glass as I mindlessly shook it back and forth. A martini was a simple drink, one that couldn't make me drunk. Granted, no alcohol could get me drunk, but the possibility of getting drunk was at the back of my mind. Right now is the time to focus on the mission at hand.

I'm here to take down a gang leader by the name of Lucas Tavares. He leads a gang called Rose Noire -- very classic guys -- whose signature move is to drop a black rose of the important victim that they have killed. The leader is an important man, so important in fact, he is the son of the CEO of the biggest car company in France, Peugeot. It's funny, really, having the son of a world-famous brand actually be a gang _leader_ of an overly cliche gang name. I mean like, what are the odds?

My thoughts got cut off when I heard my alias being called by the said CEO I was just thinking about. "Isabella!"

I turned in my seat, standing up gracefully to shake the hands of the CEO. "Ah, Mr Tavares, un reel Plaisir de Vous Revoir." ( _Ah, Mr Tavares, a real pleasure to be meeting you again._ ) I spoke, the language of love falling off my mouth fluently. Connections really save lives.

He nodded his head, a smile on his face. He then turned to the young man that stood next to him. The kid's probably in his early twenties, with brown hair and blue eyes, a jawline sharp enough to cut the cheese in France, and a body built for combat. Perfect for women, all except me. I could practically feel his stare burning on my boobs, hips, and all of the other curvaceous places on my body.

We made eye contact and I knew, just from his look, that he was up to no good. But this was a mission, so I gave him a bright, fake smile, one that was convincing enough for the father to leave. We sat down on the stools, him calling for the bartender for classics, and me just staring at him, wanting to give him the impression that I was love-struck, too enchanted with his looks to look at anything else, but in reality, I was studying him, watching his body movements and reading his body language; how his palms are facing him more than the outside, telling me that he was not telling me all of the truth; how his back hunched, telling me he was relaxed and too focused with me that the outside world; how he seemed to stutter with his words as if he was nervous to even be talking to a pretty girl like me. It was all obvious to me, but not to the average human.

He pushed back a loose strand of hair, his hands now resting on my cheeks as he caressed them gently, as if I was something fragile that would brake by a mere touch. "Tu es tres belle mon amour," ( _You are very beautiful, my love,_ ) he whispered, now moving his hand down to my neck, rubbing it lightly with his thumb.

I smiled at him, making sure to slur my words a bit, tricking him into thinking I was drunk. "Merci. Vous etes trop gentil." ( _Thank you. You are too kind._ ) But there was confusion swirling in my mind. Wasn't he supposed to be the bag guy here? I was just waiting for an implied sexual comment to arise, but speaking of the devil.

"Alors, que diriez-Vous de laisser tomber cette fête pour avoir ... plus de Plaisir Dans ma chambre?" ( _So, how about we ditch this party to have... more fun in my room?_ ) He asked, winking at me with obvious lust in his eyes. But I wordlessly nod at him, leaning my head on his chest for 'help'.

"Mais, Je suis tellement ivre ..." ( _But, I'm so drunk..._ ) I gave him puppy eyes, "Portez-moi s'il Vous plaît?" ( _Carry me, please?_ ) I said that to look like a helpless one-night stand, one that was charmed by his 'dashing' looks and couldn't wait to get in his pants and ride that minuscule dick of his.

He grinned, his hands travelling down my back to rest on my ass. I rolled my eyes, but it was unseen by the other with my head buried in his clothes. He hauled me up, carrying me like I was some sort of kid; his arm under my ass to give me a place to sit, with his other on my bare thighs, the fabric removed due to gravity. I curl my arms around his neck, pushing him closer to my chest that was in-level with his. He let out a muffled, hormonal groan, the fabric of his dress pants suddenly too tight for comfort.

He rushed to the elevator, eager to have some alone time with this body. Frantically pushing the twelfth-floor button, his lips already on my neck. I tried not to cringe away, but it was noticed by him. So, I had to come up with an explanation, and quick. "Pas maintenant, les gens verront." ( _Not now, people will see._ ) I nibble his earlobe, trying not to gag when my nostrils got hit by a wave of too much cologne. "Quand nous serons seuls, Je te donnerai tout." ( _When we're alone, I'll give you everything._ ) He groaned a sexually frustrated one when he felt my hands rub the growing tent between his legs.

When the elevator finally dinged and opened the door, he rushed out with me still in his arms, into the corridor, which is, thankfully, barren of human life, and into his room, which had the number '291' plated in gold. Rich ass.

He placed me down, going in first -- wow, what manners -- as I closed the door behind us, making sure to lock it. When I turned around, he was already half-naked, only his pants were on. My eyes widened at how fast and eager he was to fuck me, but he probably thought it was me _marvelling_ ( **cough cough** ) over the fact that he has abs. Bitch, I have abs too. You ain't special.

I let a smirk crawl on my face as I powered toward him, an assertive look on my face almost making him jizz in his pants. "Non, ah. Je joue d'abord avec toi." ( _Nah, ah. I play with you first._ )

He nodded frantically, watching as I pushed him down on his bed, crawling up to be face-to-face with him. I saddled his hips, grinding mine against his pants, my hand slowly tippy-toeing up to his neck. I clasp my hand around it, giving it a small squeeze that made him moan. As I applied pressure, my hips left his; body going more up to aid in using and creating more force. Yes, I am strangling him. Yes, also when we were about to have sUm PaSsIoNaTe HuGgInG.

Trying to pry my hand off, but to no avail, he tries to land a blow on my side, but me, being someone who has experience from all fields, just grabbed his hand with my unoccupied hand, bringing it and his other, above his head.

Then, there was a knock on the door, so I moaned out, loud, with me bouncing on my knees to make the bed creak. "Hmm! Tellement bon!" ( _Hmm! So good!_ )

The knocking stopped, but my eyes still on my target. I watched as the colour from his face started to drain, leaving a pale, weak look just stare back at me. My eyes held nothing. Nothing at all.

When I was sure that the guy was dead, I moved off of him, then realizing that he somehow jizzed in the process. Masochist. An amused smile on my face; another story to tell. I then realized that I have a weird sense of humour and should probably get that checked out.

After fixing my look, I took out my phone from my boot-heels, ringing a familiar number.

"Finished."

" _Good work, Layla. I have another thing in store for you._ "

"And?"

" _You'll be leaving with Agent Coulson in the morning tomorrow._ "

"Roger that, Nickie!"


	3. A Gnarly Trip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are in the staring of Thor 1, at the end of Iron Man 2. This is where the story will start to follow the movie, but some of my additions will be there as well for my character.

**_P U E N T E Δ N T I G U O_**  
**_N E W M E X I C O_**   
  
  


**THE ΔIR** harshly rushed around me, almost cocooning me in a way. It was nice, relaxing almost. Having the air surround me, the rush of the wind making my hair flow like waves, the cold but warm feeling of the wind brushing against my skin, the way that some of the flying creatures join in, almost like I was a part of them. Well, not really, but you get the point. It was nice to fly around with no care in the world, seeing the tiny ant-like size of the people, the shrunken-down buildings that usually towered over me; now, it feels like I am the bigger one, one that could see the very tip of Mount Everest.

It is also a good way to scout from above, probably better than those huge aeroplanes and jets and helicopters that used to scout from above in 'the olden days' that couldn't stay stealthy for the life of them. Plus, who doesn't like someone who can fly?

Right now, I am way up above, too far for the normal eyes to see. Okay, like, don't get me wrong, I can't really see either, but at least I have those glasses that could zoom in about one-thousand present, which really comes in handy these days; Specially made for me :).

I double tapped my earpiece on my left ear, letting Phil, from down below, know about what is happening. "So, there's this huge gathering; People are popping beers, eating and stuff around that impact crater that had those weird signatures that Nickie mentioned before." I paused for a bit, zooming in at the middle of the crater which had loads of people crowding around. "There's something in the middle. Small, but I can tell, it's hella heavy. Those peeps are trying to lift it, it seems."

" _Okay, good work. You can come down now._ " Phil's voice echoed in my head, the volume too loud for my overly sensitive ears. I winced, taking out the device and in-place, rubbing the sore spot. I dropped a small thing, watching it accelerate towards the oblivious people that seemed to be having the time of their lives, not knowing a _not a_ bird-like creature was hovering above, watching silently.

"Yes sir."

I let the wings on my back expand, stretching out to its fullest capacity; over one-hundred and twenty centimetres (three-foot, nine inches) each. Two-hundred forty (seven-foot, eight inches) if added together. An onyx colour tinted the tip and first layer of feathers, the second layer; a faded grey and the rest is a snow-white; blinding to the eyes with its reflection from the glare of the sun, giving it an almost glowy, heavenly look. It was somewhat a gift and a curse, something that wouldn't leave my body, but one that saved me during dire situations, something that I've come to hate and love.

The wings flapped over to where Phil was waiting for me, leaning against his sleek, black car, a brand that I had no clue that existed. When I was about ten metres away from him -- two-hundred metres from the ground -- I let my wings swivel in the air, twirling my body, head first, towards the gritty sandstone. My wings tucked around my body like a blanket, keeping me secure from the howling wind that beat my feathers with hazard, something that I am used to nowadays. I could feel myself spinning like a tornado, but more like a bullet, descending onto the ground, going faster and faster, almost feeling like I couldn't stop. But this is my body, and who is it to control other than me?

Just when the distance between me and the ground hit around five metres left, with a frightened-looking Phil near said ground, I twisted my body for it to be up-right, my wings snapping open with a gust, blowing away some of the debris that tattered the ground like empty shells of bullets. A smile filled my lips, almost reaching from ear to ear as I saw the terror-stricken look on my friend's face, scared stiff as to what he thought was going to happen. When he saw my face though, he sent me a deadly glare that made me buckle over, laughing right at him. "Ha ha, _very_ funny." He deadpanned, the glare still in his eyes but a small smile could be seen.

"You could've seen your face!" I laughed, clutching onto my stomach, a pain erupting from within at how funny it was. "You had that look like I almost died or something!"

He rolled his eyes at me, crossing his arms against his puffed out chest, almost as if he wanted to take back the worry that filled his mind. "Well, yeah. You _could've_ died!" He sighed out, walking around to the driver's seat of his car. "I at least care for you -- I was worried!"

I let a small smirk crawl up to my face as I walked to the passenger seat, opening the door and sitting down, in time with Phil to close the door. "Aw, you cawe?" I wiggled my eyebrows, "Youw my best fweind!"

"I take it back. I take it all back."

"You can't do that!"  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


"Can we stop _now_?" I whined like a four-year-old, thrashing against the leather seat, whiling my arms around, throwing a fit. "I'm hangry!"

Phil rolled his eyes that were still on the rocky road, a shake of his head as he exasperated out, "And I've told you the millionth time before, no!"

I pouted, dramatically flipping my hair at him. "It was more like, the three-hundredth time..." I grumbled out, taking a small gander at the road in front of me. Then an idea popped in my head, making me smile evilly as I turned my head to Phil, a puppy-doe eyed look was presented to him. "But there's a small town near here! And I heard they had some gnarly food there."

He sucked in a breath, glancing at me at the corners of his eyes. "You planned that out, did you?"

I innocently shook my head, "No...?" but the puppy eyes I was giving him still strong, knowing it was one of his weaknesses. I've known Phil ever since I was 'welcomed' into SHIELD, him being my guide till the company was comfortable enough to be in my presence. We stuck like glue ever since. It was weird at first, but when we got to learn about each other, it came to light that we both shared some of the same interests, like collecting cards. Though he is more to Captain America and I'm more into Yu-Gi-Oh! cards. Speaking of which, I finally have the Blue-Eyes White Dragon!

I heard a groan roll off of Phil's mouth, a bitter look on his face as he turned the stirring wheel, rounding off the corner and turning right, where the road will lead us to the small town. "Yay! Thanks, Philly!"

"Yeah, yeah."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The engine turned off, prompting me to swing open the car door, a giddy smile on my face as I skipped to the gas station that held a mini-market. Even if this wasn't the place in mind, I was happy nonetheless.

The doors slid open, welcoming me with a soft breeze of cold air, making me sigh when the heat was finally off my wingless back. Phil trailed behind, fixing his expensive suit and taking off his sunglasses, placing them inside his front suit pocket.

The guy at the cashier was busy on his phone, probably playing some mobile game by the vicious tapping that that could be heard from a mile away. I strolled around the snack section, stuffing chips, marshmallows, gum, chocolate bars, and juice in my arms before dumping them at the cashier counter, startling the cashier and almost making him drop his phone in shock. Phil placed a simple beverage on the counter before leaving again to probably browse more, me doing the same.

I poked Phil on the shoulder, making him turn my way. I lifted the two packages of mini doughnuts in each hand both having different flavours. One was chocolate and the other plain with powdered sugar. "Which one is better? Or should I buy both? How about those cookies-- or-or those muffins?

Just when Phil was about to say something, the sound of a cocking gun filled my ears, making both me and him to shut right up. I crouched, food pushed to the furthest part of my brain right now. A motion of 'come hither' was formed with my hands to Phil, who was still standing before I did so. I slowly crouched to the corner of the aisle, peeking my head a bit to look at where the sound was most likely made -- right outside of the shop.

The doors were slid open, and the heavy footsteps of the robber were heard, his shoe making a squeaky noise and the sound of keys hanging down his sweatpants. "Put yer money in the bag!" He bellowed, shoving his bag towards the shaking cashier. "Faster! I don't have all day!"

I stood up from my spot, but mentioned to Phil to, 'stay where you are'. I took out my handgun that was strapped from behind my jeans, pulling it up and shouting out, "Put your hands in the air where I can see them!"

The guy snapped towards my direction, his gun raised to point its nuzzle at me. He raised a brow, almost amused that a small figure of a person like me, standing up to a guy that was twice my size. A smirk met my face as I knew he already underestimated me. "Wipe that smirk clean off yer face or else--"

"Or else, what? Are you gonna cry? Maybe piss your pants? Maybe shit and cum?" I taunted, my smirk growing at every word that fell off of my mouth. It grew more when I could practically see the anger lighting deep from within him; glowing in his eyes. My ears picked up a small and quiet snort coming from Phil, only feeding my already big ego.

The guy growled, slightly embarrassed by the look on his face. He then 'threateningly' shoved his gun on my face, a low snarl sounding from his throat, "Ya sure yer wanna do this, Lil' girl? Just so ya know, I could put ya down faster that PETA could ever put down a rabid."

I raised my eyebrows in both amusement and slight concern, not knowing whether or not this guy was really stable. "Whoa, whoa. Okay, then. You can calm down." I lifted my palms to face him, my gun still clutched securely in my right hand. "We can take this outside and have a duel like cowboys, or something."

But instead of taking up the offer I had presented him, he pulled the trigger quickly. I barely had any time to dodge, having to lean to the side so that my shoulder didn't come in contact with that bullet and instead punctured a bag of Lay's chips that sat beside me. Good thing it hit the part with the air inside, oh wait, the whole thing is practically air. "Or not..."

I twirled around, knowing that using my gun in this small, confined area was not safe and could surely hit unwanted people. I let out a sigh as I knew I had to keep this place intact and not go around destroying everything. So, I opt to use my trusty hand-to-hand, brought to you by Jackie Chan himself.

I boosted my whole body towards the guy, catching him terribly off guard and hiking my leg up towards his face. The soles of my boot coming in contact with his nose, a sickening crack was the result. He stumbled back, hitting himself against the counter while cladding his nose like it was a baby, a smothered red could be painfully seen in between his slightly closed fingers. "Fucking shit!" He cussed, eyes seething with anger as they carefully landed on me.

I gave a grin, holding up two guns in my hands. His eyes widened in shock, looking down to his other hand that used to hold that dear weapon, in search to tell himself his mind was playing tricks on him from how hard that kick was. But, inevitably, found it gone. "Okay, okay. I call it quits."

I tilted my head towards the cashier, who had been sinking in the corner of his shop, next to the fridges that lined the wall on the left of him. "Call the police, tell 'em what happened." I then directed my glare towards the robber (a bad one, at that) and motioned a 'come hither'. He obliged, me turning to give the guns to Phil, who took them with glee, a proud look in his eyes when they rested on mine. I shoved the guy on the floor, taking out a pair of handcuffs that was so generously provided by Phil.

I gripped onto his shoulder, almost having to lift him up myself when he refused to get up from the floor. I pulled him to the corner where the cashier had previously sat on and made him face the corner, scolding him like he was a five-year-old throwing an unwanted temper tantrum. "Now, you stay in the time-out corner and wait for the police to arrive. Got it?"

He meekly nodded his head, almost unnoticeable, but caught by me. I nodded my head, a smile on my face when I turned around to continue my snack picking as if I hadn't just stopped a thirty-five-year-old man from robbing this shop broke.

When I emptied out the last of my choosing, the guy on the counter offered it to be on the house, since I was the one to literally save his whole bank account from being emptied out like a bin of disposal. But I shook my head no and paying him everything that needed to be paid, along with Philly's own choosing and giving him a ten-dollar tip.

I skipped to the car, sliding into the passenger's seat and opening a can of Sour, cream, and onion Pringles can, almost devouring it in one go. Coulson cringed from beside me from my obnoxiously loud munching and the crumbs that would fall on his car, knowing that he had to vacuum it all up later.   
  
  
  
  
  


What seemed like ten hours had only been twenty minutes since the incident in the gas station. Phil had been driving the whole time, following the directions the little tracker showed on his phone; the one that I dropped when I was up above them. I groaned from my seat, trying to shimmy my way to a comfortable position, but it was no use, this hard, leather seating was too stiff and luxurious for my liking.

I glanced up towards the sandy scenery in front of me. The sun blaring down heat and light too bright for my eyes and too hot for my body. I hated and still hate the hot weather, the stinking feeling when your clothes get stuck on your back, the hair stuck to your nape, and the feeling of sweat trickling down your body, in your clothes and mixing in with the other sweat. Even with the air conditioning blowing out cold air, it could never prevent me from sweating on the spot.

I pushed my body straight when the familiar-looking landscape filled my eyes, albeit, it was from a different perspective, but still looking the same. I looked up to Phil and when he gave me a nod, I knew where we are.

We finally arrived.

I pushed open the door, finally being able to stretch, the bone on my back letting out a pop, and my shoulders, a few cracks. I let out a sigh of relief when we didn't need to sit on that horrid seat anymore.

With a single glance exchanged between me and the agent, I took out my phone, dialling up a number while simultaneously placing a sunglasses on my eyes. My phone rang only a few times before it was picked up, a low voice emitting from it. " _And I presume you have good news, Agent Layla?_ "

I nodded my head, even though I knew Nickie couldn't see me. "We found it, Sir."


	4. A Mere Passerby?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Layla meets someone whom she thinks she knows from her past, seeing as the other party thinks so too. But she doesn't really remember, as her past is something she doesn't even remember herself. Something has happened, but she doesn' know what.

  
**THE FLYING** numbers and wordings that were displayed on the two computer screen made the gears in my head turn. I hunched my back, slumping against the table, eyes still glued to the flying numbers that looked the same and different at the same time. I hit 'enter' and waited a couple of seconds. A loading screen popped up, the green line underneath filling in a flash.

My fingers tapped the different keys on the keyboard with no effort, adding and deleting things that deemed unnecessary or needed to be changed when it turned into an error. I squinted my eyes, knowing that I should've worn those blue-light glasses. Soon, I'll be needing glasses and those aren't ideal when you fight bad guys for a living.

Eyes darting to the third monitor on my large desk -- a CGI display of the SHIELD HQ -- I picked up my discarded pen from the floor (how did it get there?) then started jotting down the subtle and large changes on the protection and security. My eyes travelled to the side of the monitor, showing the numerous persons trying to break in and access the private SHIELD information that was meant to be private. I nodded my head when they would break into some of the security and eventually fail the more they break into it. Turning my head back at the paper, my messy handwriting filled its contents, which honestly looked like scribbles -- like those of a doctor.

I stopped my writing, scanning the paper, then the computer, I scratched my hair in agitation. I was honestly getting hungry and tired by the time I finished upgrading the security. I started to twirl the pen in between my fingers, letting it gradually get faster and faster until it was a mere blur to the eyes and letting it distract me from the current matter at hand. A startling voice broke my concentration, letting the pen fly off and hit the visitor. "Holy shi--!" the voice let out a startled grunt, with a wince since the flying pen had hit him right on the face.

I looked at the visitor, the guilt that churned in my stomach had vanished as quickly as it came, already knowing that voice and that pained look on his face. I smiled brightly as if I hadn't just flung a pen at him and left a red mark on his forehead. "It kinda _was_ your fault since you scared me," I mused, a small smile on my face when I saw that he was rubbing the sore spot.

"So, no 'Oh, Clint! I'm so sorry!' or at least a 'Hey, Clinty! I missed you so much!'?" He asked, stretching out the 'o' in 'so'. "But, for sure I was pissed when you had to leave me with Nat by myself. Sure, I love the girl to death, but she will be the death of me. Literally."

I grinned at the mention of my Soviet best friend, Natasha Romanoff. "How is she, by the way?" I said, smirking when it ticked Clint off. "She better not bury herself in missions now that none of us can stop her."

He grumbled underneath his breath, muttering about me not liking him as much as Nat. "She's doing fine." He then looked at me with a look on his face, his hands clasped in front of him. "How about me? Are you gonna ask about--"

I pushed the chair while standing up, reaching over to my Glock that was hidden inside of a drawer. Clint visibly walked backwards, thinking I was going to use it on him, which made me chuckle. I strapped it behind and inside of my jeans, covering it with my shirt. Clint visibly relaxed, and I looked over to him, a small smile on my face. "'M sorry, but I gonna go for some grub. I'm starving."

He nodded his head in understanding, it is tiring to go to a different country when we were supposed to be in our breaks. "Get me something too," he said, patting me on the back when I walked passed him, falling into line to probably bid me goodbye at the entrance.

"Yeah, yeah. PB-and-Js for you," I teased, turning to face Clint. I pinched his cheeks, letting out a coo as if I was speaking with a child. Well, in some sense of the word, Clint was just a big baby to me.

"I'm so done with your shit, Layla," he grumbled, but I ignored him, turning back around and skipping down the plastic-walled hallway.

We stepped out of the white plastic-like tubes that SHIELD had set up for the base, translucent tubes connecting to various, other bigger plastic hemispheres that dotted around the crater housing the numerous other scientists that were fit for whatever had dropped from the sky above. It had alerted them when they had gathered an unusually high spike of electromagnetic that clouded this area.

I stopped by one of the many trucks and vehicles that surrounded the area, turning to Clint once again for an answer. "Oh, yeah. Have they found anything about that alien thing?"

He shook his head, but an answer of some sort did come out. "Agent Coulson said that they had found a scientist that is excellent in this field, the others already trying to find uh, 'borrow' her research at the moment."

"Name?"

" _Jane Foster._ "  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Zooming through the small town, I double tapped the side of my dull, black helmet. A visual-touch projection popping off from the side. A semi-translucent, glowing blue display filled the top-right corner of the helmet's glass. With a flick of my finger across the screen, from the other side, I opened up Google Maps and typed down, ' _the nearest restaurant_ '.

The bike swerved and stopped, without me doing so, and picked off-speed once I clicked on my destined location of food. This little neat thing was something I installed, by myself mind you, to my bike. It's essentially a Bluetooth-like inspiration where I created a hub on my helmet's glass, where it has many, many other uses, and is connected to my bike. A neat and dandy trick I might have got from a genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist.

I turned over to you. Yes, you. The one reading this as of right now, you. Lemme tell you a funny story while I (my bike) take my (its) time to find that nice diner I saw on Google Maps.

Okay, so, one day, after finishing a small mission, I was still a noob, y'know? So, like, Nick gave me a bike as a *ahem* _present_. It was nothing amazing, it was a standard bike that some SHIELD agents had if they wanted. My first bike was -- and I still remember -- a Kawasaki Ninja 400, and it was my absolute favourite thing in the world, after my guns, and I took it _everywhere_. And I am emphasizing on 'everywhere'. So naturally, I would be heart-broken if it got scratched and/or broken, right?

Yeah, you are absolutely right, and a little more. I. Went. Crazy when I found out that my bike was stolen (it was during the small mission I mentioned earlier). I was so fucking heart-broken, and you can add Nat's input if you doubt it. So, naturally, I went to absolute _lengths_ to try and find it, but I never did. Nick, or I don't know someone, might have heard of what happened and gifted me another bike, but a newer addition. It wasn't the same, but I still liked it. But then, guess what? It got stolen again! It's like the universe decided that giving me a sort of happiness would tip the world and shatter it! I mean like, why?! Okay, I know I've done things in the past that might make a priest faint, spray holy water at me, and call me a devil's reincarnation, but c'mon! Give me some slack here! I'm trying to do better, and I think I'm doing a pretty fine job right now! I mean, I have a job that takes down evil, so maybe? Just maybe?

But. whatever. And then I got another bike, and now, you could probably guess what happened here. Yeah, yeah, it got stolen _again_. And then again, and again, and again. It was probably till Nick started to also realize what was happening to their -- not to toot my own horn or anything -- most valuable member. :)

And so, he gifted me this bike that was custom made by the great _Tony Stark_ , himself. But, I added those other decors into my bike and helmet after the whole thing and got my ultimate bike. The _batpod_ \-- shit, wrong universe.

Ah, yet another episode of the fourth wall breaking. Oh, hey, again! Welp, time to turn this all back to normal! I said, making warping noises out of my mouth while wiggling my arms around like seaweed. Wait, holy shit, you're in my mind--!

Parking my bike by _Isabel's Diner_ , a diner that had a lot of good reviews on Google Maps, I tugged off my helmet and ran my fingers through my unruly hair, easing my knots and making it feel more slick and tidy. Shoving my helmet under my arm, I trudged over to the diner, not forgetting to lock my bike, set up a math equation if people were really persistent about stealing my bike, and putting up questions about quantum mechanics in there for safety measures.

Pushing the door open, a ring from the top alerted the people inside, only glancing up then back down to their phones or company. I breathed in the aroma of brunch foods, letting the warmth take over my body and replenish my tired soul, bringing me back to the state I once was. A happy -- yeah, no.

Manoeuvring passed the tables that were filled with people and food, I placed my helmet on a table far from human life, away from the chatters and lively beings. I raised my hand, alerting the waitress that was standing idle on the front bar. "What would you like to order?"

"You have beer?" She nodded. "Yeah, I'll have three of those. Large, please. And a plate full of bacon, eggs, and a side of toast. Thanks."

She just stood there, lips slightly apart, gawking at me before scurrying off to tell the chef my large order. I looked over at the glass on my helmet, a small screen appearing on the bottom left, showing what the camera on my bike showcased. It was a man trying to hijack my vehicle, but couldn't and instead walked away in shame. I let out a small, evil crackle, knowing that he couldn't solve what I put on there. then pulled out my phone to scroll through the file list of the mentioned name from before. I double tapped on her picture, using my fingers to pinch the screen to zoom in, I got a high-resolution image of _Jane Foster_. She was very pretty, to say the least.

I went back, scrolling through her small biography then coming across to her friends, _Professor Erik Selvig_ and their intern, _Darcy Lewis_. I continued reading each of their bios, even after getting my order and getting weird looks from the other residents in the diner. I just ignored them and started to chug and gobble down my food with ease.

As I was enjoying my last large beer -- the foam coating the top of my lips -- the glass door was pushed open, a soft chime from the doorbell, causing heads to turn in that direction. I minded my own business, now nibbling on a pop tart that the waiter so graciously gave me. Okay, but I was a little, _tiny_ , _winy_ bit curious. Only a little bit. And you know what they say? Curiosity gets the cat.

I look over to my right and to say the very, absolute least, _I was not disappointed with the view_. _And--holy fuck_ , is that Foster, Selvig, _AND_ Lewis with them?! My eyes slightly widened in shock, because holy shit, is this a coincidence or Nah? But with a narrowed look, I noticed that the blond dude was not mentioned in any of their bios. Even their bios had mentioned past relationships and family members. The three scientists looked on edge with the blond, well except for Darcy as she was busy giggling and ogling the poor dude.

But, what the absolute fuck. Why do I feel like I know him? I've never seen this guy before but I'm having an existential crisis right now, with a dash of intense deja vu. He was looking around as if trying to adjust to this place like he wasn't from around here -- like he didn't belong here. Then those piercing blue eyes caught sight of mine and his eyes widened a tad bit, but before he could do anything, I looked away, a sudden pain washing over my head with a feeling of tightness in my chest, as if the air around me vanished, leaving me to struggle to get a breath. The pounding of my head mimicked the fast beating of my heart. I haven't felt like this during _that_ time. What is happening to me?

Why do I feel like I know him?

Why do I feel like he knows me?

Why am I like this?!

I took a deep breath and, with much struggle, stood up from my seat to pay for my orders at the front bar. With a swift tug of my helmet over my head, I could _feel_ the stare of someone burning the back of my skull -- and I wanted to get out of here, and fast. But, _shit_. I just remembered that one of the most important people is here and I should text Coulson about this.

So, with a quick tapping of my fingers, while walking towards the cashier, I typed out a small message to him.

' _Foster is here in Isabel's Diner._ '

I shoved my phone in my pocket, making sure I didn't lift my shirt to reveal my fricken gun. I, instead, took out my fat wallet. Being one of the top (clearance level nine) SHIELD agents really had its perks. I could hear the other people's astonished noises falling from their lips, including (and the loudest) Darcy, who turned to her mentor and pointed in my direction. "Look at all the money she has--"

And then she gets elbowed to the side from her female mentor. The male mentor shook his head in disappointment at the lady, and the blond dude just looked like a confused puppy. When I turned to pay the cashier, a crash almost scared the white out of me. "Another!"

It was the blond dude. What the fuck. And just like that, I ignored everything that was around me.

I just really wanted to get out of here when I just fucking remembered that Clint Fucking Barton wanted PB-and-Js. Oh, fuck me gently with a saw. "Can I have four PB-and-Js, please? Yeah, to go." The cashier nodded his head to the chef and the chef started to work.

_Hm-mother fucker. Please, let me leave. I want to go home._

The chime of the doorbell rang again, and this time, I didn't bother looking up. "The usual, please, Izzy," a redneck with his friend walked in, plopping down on the seat next to mine. "You missed all of the excitement out at the crater."

"They're saying some kind of satellite--" _Alien tech, but go off, I guess._ "--landed out in the desert." his friend informed, taking a seat next to his friend.

And finally, _finally_ , the gods have answered my prayers. The PB-and-J sandwiches were handed to me and I left as soon as I got my hands on them, not before giving the workers a tip. I pushed passed the doors, fishing out my keys to unlock the bike, but I stopped. Sensing something around the corners, I averted my gaze towards the alleyway that was in between the diner and some sort of pet shop.

What. The. Absolute. _Fuck_.

It's the same dude who tried to steal my bike from earlier! Has he really been standing there for the past twenty or so minutes? Just watching and waiting for the owner of the bike to appear? Man, that takes some dedication, I'll give him that.

I made eye-contact through the tint of the glass (to which I lowered the opacity to _actually_ make eye-contact) and he bolted, spinning around and running away. Fuckin' shit. I bolted to where he once stood and found him trying to reach the fire escape ladder, (since it was folded over, probably for this very reason) but missing since he couldn't reach the bottom step.

I walked behind him, who was still too focused on trying to grab the step and grabbed his shoulder. He jumped and let out a girly shriek. I tightened my grip on his shoulders, my fingers digging into his bone. I leaned forward when he made no move to run, and said, in my most menacing voice I could muster (which was a lot) and a small growl, " _What._ ** _Are_** _. You._ ** _Doing_** _?_ "

He trembled underneath my eerie aura, his mouth opening and closing like fish, unable to utter a single word to me. "I-I—"

That was the only thing that he was able to let out before I decked him in the neck, exactly where his pressure point would be. He effortlessly fell out of conscience, his body falling onto my awaiting arms. I slowly lowered him down onto the floor, crouching down to make it easier for me to lower his back up against the wall and to lean onto the huge dumpster beside him. I made sure to lower his head slowly as to not damage it.

The tapping of feet made me drop his head, making me wince when it hit the concrete wall. I looked up, finding the same blond man from before, at the front of the alleyway. I widened my eyes, finding myself in a small pickle. It seems like I was the imposter, killing the poor crewmate and being caught mid-kill.

"I didn't kill him," I blurted out, silently cursing myself for seeming more sus.

The man seemed to notice my discomfort, as he waved his hands in front of him, "No, no. I know you didn't kill him. Only knocking him out."

My eyes widened more, and I lowered the opacity of the tint of the glass, concealing my eyes and face. "You saw that?"

He nodded.

.

.

.

Well, this is getting a bit awkward. We just silently stared at one another. No one daring to say anything to move, until he broke the silence with a question that made my whole body shook.

"Have we met? Because it feels like we have."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so the story is picking up pace a bit. Sorry for those who wanted a story that immediately starts with the other movies. I did this so that my character doesn't seem like a side character; only seeing things in the perspective of a side character. I want my character to be really relevant in this story, so I'll be adding her in a lot of movies and scenes with the other heroes. And she'll have her own bits and bobs scattered throughout the story.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first story that is going on this site, so please don't go hard on me! But, constructive criticism is appreciated!


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